16
FEEDING MY FEARS
Olivia
MY LIFE FEELS LIKE IT’S hanging on a delicate balance, swaying back and forth with my own indecision, my desires tipping the scale on one side, and my fears on the other. Both are heavy, and I can’t get a handle on either. Instead, everything feels ready to teeter and crash before inevitably going up in ames.
Except things might have already gone up in ames.
I can continue to blame alcohol for decisions made, but the truth is simple: I felt weak. I explored a man I’ve been slowly getting to know, and I consciously gave in. To the magnetic pull, the raw desire, the genuine connection. I let my body and my heart lead.
The truth is, I’d closed my eyes and jumped. As I fell asleep with his body locked around mine, keeping me warm, I told myself to breathe, that we’d gure it out together in the morning.
And yet when the warm sun touched my skin and woke me, my heart hammered with apprehension at the hand splayed over my belly, the face stued in my neck. My hands shook, but I closed my eyes and willed the fear away.
I’d wriggled out of his arms and played on my phone while I waited for him to wake, and the rst thing that looked up at me when I opened Instagram was his smiling face as he ushered a leggy brunette through the doors of a high rise, his hand on her ass. I’d made the mistake of nding the article, where they’d lined up Carter’s top twelve fucks of the year, rating them based on things as trivial as facial attributes, physique, fashion, and jobs.
Fear whispered that I’d never be able to stack up.
Fear reminded me he had a separate home to bring his one-night stands.
Fear screamed in my face that I wouldn’t be enough to keep a man like Carter interested.
Fear told me to run, to leave before he could hurt me.
Fear is a funny, ckle thing. It’s there to protect you, to keep you from getting hurt, tells you to back up before it’s too late. But it weighs you down, keeping you from moving forward, like feet stuck in mud. And more often than not?
You get hurt anyway. Sometimes, like today, you hurt the person you care about in the process too.
The thing is, I’m allowed to be scared. But Carter stood there, begging me to stay, to communicate, to give him a damn chance. And instead of sitting with my fear, talking through it, I gave it wings, tied myself to it, and watched it take ight with me attached. I let it control me, and I hate that.
Truth is, I don’t know how not to. I don’t know how to put my heart on the line for a man who’s never been interested in a relationship. I don’t know how to open myself so wholly to someone who may not, in the end, be able to reciprocate, to keep my heart safe.
I just… don’t know. That’s the reality of life sometimes.
I swipe a tear from my cheek as soon as it falls, because through all the indecision, they still feel unwarranted. But every time I read the note in my hands, my eyes prickle all over again. I’ve yet to put the small piece of cardstock down, the smell of cedarwood and citrus clinging to it, a scent I’m not ready to lose.
So I read the note for the seventh time.
Olivia, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
I know this year will be the best one yet, because I met you.
Carter The kicker? The tiny heart scribbled next to his name.
The lump in my throat dips to my chest, making everything tight. I place my palm over the ache, willing it to go away, but it doesn’t.
Giving up, I admire the rose gold chain in my hand. It’s not a necklace, but a lanyard for my school ID badge. The delicate chain breaks every few inches with small diamond-encrusted hoops, a matching rose gold whistle hanging o a clip.
My thumb rubs methodically over the words etched into the pendant connecting the chain to the clip. Miss Parker it says on one side. Turning it over, I smile through my quickly blurring vision at the words on the back: World’s hottest teacher.
But my favorite part? The tiny hockey skate charm that dangles next to the whistle. This gift is thoughtful and practical, beautiful, and I walked away, leaving him to start a brand-new year by himself, when all he asked me to do was stay, to trust him.
It’s not a question of trusting his intentions. I know him well enough to understand that he doesn’t lie. If he did, he’d probably be better at talking to women, or more specically, me. In fact, if he lied, I might’ve found myself in his bed that rst night we met.
When he tells me he’ll try, I believe him. It’s that I don’t know if I can trust that he’s really thought this out, that something has absolutely changed for him in the last twelve hours that’s made him suddenly ready for a relationship.
I don’t want to be a girl whose face gets splashed on the tabloids, sprinkled all over social media, labeled and judged when he might change his mind.
Heartache is hard enough to deal with privately; I have no desire to be forced to do it so publicly.
My phone lights up on my bed, and I swallow hard when Cara’s face pops up.
She’ll want details, ones I’m not ready to share. That means admitting how deep I’ve already fallen, how I acted out of fear, and that I’m not sure I can make it right because I’m not sure I’m brave enough to try this.
Cara’s never scared of anything. She knows what she wants and goes after it without a second thought. I wish I were that sure of myself.
I clear my throat and lift my phone to my ear. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, babe! You still at Carter’s? We’re coming to see you two. Put some clothes on. And don’t try to tell me you didn’t get down and dirty with him.
Your bad intentions were written all over your face while you were bouncing around in his bed.”
The laugh I force is cringeworthy. Despite my dad’s insistence that I’m highly dramatic and would make a good actress, I’d make a shit one. I have big feelings, which makes them dicult to swallow down.
“I’m at home, Care.”
The line goes silent for so long, I check my screen to make sure the call is still connected. It is. The mued sound of her directing Emmett to my house instead of Carter’s comes before her vicious words.
“What did he do? His ass is fucking grass, Liv, I will kill him. I swear, I’ll do it.
I’ll go to jail for you.”
Her erce, protective nature is what makes her such a good friend and person to have in your corner. I’m just not sure she should be in mine right now. She’d never leave, because she’s always been my shoulder and me hers, but she won’t humor me and tell me I was right if she thinks I was wrong either.
“I appreciate your ferocity, but Carter did nothing wrong.”
“Then why are you sad?” The words are quiet and tender, a stark contrast from just a moment ago. “I’m pretty sure Carter had plans to keep you all day.
Em and I heard something about a turkey dinner.”
A genuine laugh bubbles in my throat. I wipe a tear away. “He promised turkey. And movies and snuggles and talking.”
“But you’re not with him.”
“No.”
“It’s okay to be scared, Ollie,” she assures me softly, reading me the way she always does. “We all feel that way sometimes. We’re gonna get through it, okay?
Whatever that looks like.”
My heart swells, grateful for the love I have. “Thanks, Care.” I clear my throat and wave a dismissive hand around. “Anyway. Enough about me and my self- inicted problems. What’s up? Why are you coming over?”
The instantaneous way she perks up is obvious, a palpable energy that leaks through the phone. “I guess you’ll have to open your front door and nd out.”
The line dies at the same time knocks sound on my door.
Okay, it’s not knocking. I’m pretty sure there’s an entire body being slammed into the door.
I scoot out of bed and head down the hall. The moment I open the door, a body collides with mine. Long limbs wrap around me, taking me to the ground, and I nearly drown in Cara’s blonde locks.
She pulls back, blue eyes alive with excitement as shoves her hand in my face, an obnoxiously huge and utterly stunning diamond pressed against the tip of my
nose.
“Hi, maid of honor!”
